Improbable Impossible
by The Musician Of The Night
Summary: Random parodies of some lines that i misunderstood...should be funny. What if some people like Christine and M. Reyer had better hearing? Why was Piangi indignant? All answered!


A/N: Yeah…parodies…funfunfunfunfun! So, in the soundtrack I have, during "Think Of Me" Raoul says: _What a change, you're really not a bit, the gawkish girl that once you were. She may not remember me, blah, blah, blah._ And I thought, well, the acoustics in that place must be really good, so why couldn't Christine hear him? Well, maybe she did…

* * *

Raoul trembled as he knocked on Christine's dressing room door. Would she remember him? The door was opened by Christine. Raoul slipped inside, and she glanced out into the hall before shutting the door and turning on him. "What exactly was that supposed to mean?" She demanded. "What?" Raoul asked, utterly confused. "You remember me?"

Christine poked him in the chest. "How could I not? I thought we were friends, even something more! I recognized you in the audience, and I watched to see if you would recognize me. And you did, oh, yes, you did! You cheered for me, wondered if I would remember you, but none of that makes up for what you said, oh no, none of it!" She turned away, and Raoul reached out towards her. "Christine, what did I say? Please, tell me!" Christine turned back to him with tears in her eyes, "You insulted me when the whole opera house could hear! You called me "gawkish girl"! Oh, Raoul, how could you?" Raoul blinked. "But...Christine, I said you weren't the gawkish girl you once were...I didn't call you gawkish!" Christine glared at him. "Get out! Get out of my dressing room!"

Raoul was shoved, protesting to the door. "Please, Christine, Little Lotte, forgive me!" Christine stopped pushing him. "Oh, you remember that too?" she accused. "Yes, I remember, of course I remember! '_Am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins or shoes..._' see, I remember!" Raoul pleaded.

"All of those picnics in the attic, you remember too, no doubt."

"Yes, I do!"

"All of them?"

"I think so..."

"The one where you poured lemonade down my dress? The one when you put egg in my hair? The one where you actually _cut_ my hair? The many, many others in which my sandwich or drink always ended up in my lap?" Raoul gave a small smile. "Yes, I do remember the...foolish pranks I would play...but what of it? I was only a boy." Christine wasn't finished, however. "You remember father playing the violin?" Raoul smiled, glad to be off the subject of their picnics. "Of course," he said, "and the dark stories we would read to each other, tales of the north." Christine interrupted again, "In which I was always the bad guy, or the damsel in distress who never did anything, or the night who failed to beat the dragon and got roasted, and you were always the brave night in shining armor who defeated the dragon, vanquished the foe, rescued the lady...oh, I remember too! How well I remember!" Raoul was starting to get tired of all the accusations.

"You'll also remember then, how I went diving into cold ocean water to retrieve a scarf someone carelessly let fall in!" he said. Christine sighed. "Yes, I do. Well, at least that's one good thing you did."

* * *

"My apologies, M. Reyer. Proceed, proceed." Lefevre said hastily. "Thank you, monsieur" Reyer said, turning back to Piangi. "So, from "_sad to return..._" signor ..." Lefevre turned to Andre and Firmin. "That's M. Reyer, our chief repetiteur. Rather a tyrant, I'm afraid." Reyer turned and glared at Lefevre. "A tyrant, am I?" he snapped. "Well, I suppose you don't need a _tyrant_ working with your actors." Andre and Firmin looked at him with apprehension. Lefevre glanced nervously around. "Er, well, I think that I'd best be off to Frankfurt..." Reyer turned to Andre and Firmin. "_We_ don't think you're a tyrant, do we Andre?" Firmin said hastily. "No, no, not at all!" Andre quickly assured him.

* * *

"I have brought you, to the seat of sweet music's throne. To this kingdom where all must pay homage to music...music..." Erik said. Christine looked around. "You have come here," he continued, "for one purpose, and one alone. Since the moment I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me, to serve me, to sing...for my music...my music…" Christine raised her eyebrows. "And?" Erik blinked. "Night-time sharpens - " he began, but Christine cut him off. "What's that one purpose, again?" She asked. "Um, to serve me, to sing for my music." Erik answered. "And? What else?" Christine continued. "That's it. I want you to sing for me." Erik said, becoming more confused by the second. "Oh? You're not in love with me, or anything? You only brought me here so that I could sing?" Erik shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yes." Christine sighed. "Oh, well...so, night-time sharpens...?"

* * *

"Have you seen the size of my part?" Demanded Carlotta, indignantly. "Signora, listen -" Andre began, when he was interrupted by Piangi bursting in through the door. "It's an insult!" he cried. Firmin groaned. "Not you as well..." Piangi strode up to him. "Just look at this," he said, waving a paper under Firmin's nose. "It's an insult!" Andre tried to restore peace, "Please understand!" he began, but Firmin grabbed the paper away from Piangi. He looked at it for a moment. "Of course it's an insult!" he said, "What's wrong with Don Juan using a bit of foul language? We didn't write this, you know!"

* * *

A/N: I can never keep strait which is Andre and which is Firmin…I just can't! So, if I got them wrong, sorry. Oh, and I couldn't figure out how to put the little dash over the "e" in Andre, so sorry 'bout that too! 


End file.
